Scenes from a time
by Peacebunnie
Summary: The tangled misadventures of a young rurouni. Some mornings it just isn't worth waking up. A series of loosely connected mini fics
1. Prologue: Into the death

AN: I cannot for the life of me come up with a title I like. If anyone wants to suggest a better name in a chapter or two, please feel free. Please.

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There was blood splattered everywhere - the ground, the brush, the trees.

Shoving the brush aside, Kenshin stepped cautiously into the clearing.

A blade lay beside the stains, shading the sunlight, looking far too cheerful for such a horrifying portrait. On the far side of the clearing a stream ran quickly, jumping away from the rocks and the soil, fleeing the cares of the corporeal living. The trees made a striking tableau, emerald green dripping the dark scarlet of life to the ground below.

Kenshin stepped further in, observing the quiet. The sour tang of blood had led him to the small space, and his nerves were laced with fire, though seemingly there was no threat present. He however knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving, and remained alert as he studied the surroundings.

There was no body. How could there be that much blood and no body to accompany it? No one could loose that much and live. His eyes tracked the largest concentration of red. Beside the pool was an outline in the dirt, almost as if a body had lain there moments before. The sword lay near what would have been the right arm, if you looked a certain way.

Another step, a furtive look. The blade was clean; splattered with blood, but none of its own cut. There was no one there. The blood was still dripping. Where were the victors? How could they move a body so fast and so quietly? Stretching his ki senses, he tried once more to sense something. Nothing.

He froze for several minutes, listening for any sound. When nothing was detected, he viewed the ground closely, tracing the course of events in the footsteps. Walking forward, he took the place of one set, and marked out that person's actions through the clearing.

Pace forward, light dodge, easy swing. The deceased opponent was not a competent swordsman, he was being played with. There. The opponent tripped, and it was all over. Judging from the weight, he was beheaded.

But where was he?

Casting his eyes around once more, Kenshin lit upon something stuck in the stream. Striding over quickly, he bent down to snatch it up. He looked at it curiously.

It was a piece of fish, though it was no fish he had ever seen. It was of a toughness one did not usually see except in larger sea animals, and had a pattern of scales that was completely foreign to him. Not that he could say he was extraordinarily familiar with all types of fish. But all things considered...

Looking around once more, he turned and left the clearing. There was all the evidence of foul play, yet apparently nothing to prove. He could help no one. Suppressing a cold chill down his spine, Kenshin paced back to his camp site to build a fire. He was so hungry, and no one would care about a useless chunk of fish he'd found in a small stream.


	2. Chapter 1: Forewarning

AN: And the next installment! If it weren't for the agony of trying to write it all quickly, I would be in love with posting only finished fics. While I am rather fond of this oddness of a story, it has reminded me why I prefer one-shots. Yet I am already starting another multi-part fic. Feel the headache...

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Chapter 1: Forewarning

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Sighing, Kenshin dropped his undone scarf to the side of the road, leaning his head against a tree. After a moment, he wearily turned to his scattered food supplies and went to pick them up.

Upon returning with the gathered food, he found two identical scarves sitting by the road. He blinked. That was unexpected. And mildly irritating. Backing up a step, he pulled his sheathed sword free and poked the scarf on the left several times. Following that he poked the one on the right.

It squeaked. He poked it again.

The tanuki popped and resumed its natural form, and ran into the underbrush. Kenshin sighed again, and began packing his food.

---

As he walked along, Kenshin mused on recent happenings. He had found work in a small village, following traders on their routes and keeping bandits away. He'd performed his job admirably, gotten paid well, and best of all, no one there had discovered his past. He had not been run out of town. He'd had a wonderful beginning to his day, and nothing could ruin it.

He blinked. And stopped. And turned, finally, to look into the tree tops.

From its perch above and behind him, the tanuki blinked back.

After staring each other down for several moments, Kenshin turned and continued on. His stalker continued to follow, moseying through the bows as would a fine lady due her glory out on a promenade.

Alright, his unwanted companion was annoying. But that thing would not ruin his day.

Not even when it started squeaking at him every few minutes. No, it would go away eventually.

---

Setting the last piece of kindling on the pile, Kenshin reached into his gi and pulled out a flint. Quickly starting a fire, he stepped back a few paces and sat, content to enjoy the warmth before sleeping.

Few minutes had passed when he became aware of a small presence behind him. He sat still, waiting to see what would happen. The new presence snuck closer, almost shyly, until it sat directly behind him. He felt a tugging on his hair. He turned slowly, in order to see his forward little guest.

Fascinated by his red hair, a little red kitsune sat smacking at his top knot. As he turned, its eyes moved to his face. They studied each other for a while; the kitsune, getting bored, edged closer. It pulled itself onto his lap, and after a moment he rubbed its head. The kitsune purred.

The brush nearby seemed to rustle. Man and animal went silent, every bit alert. When nothing occurred, the kitsune butted its head against Kenshin's stomach, and squirmed to his shoulder. Nosing his cheek, the kitsune barked lightly, and gave him a small lick.

With an almighty roar, the tanuki launched itself from the tree tops, ramming into the kitsune and sending it flying. Kenshin froze, wide-eyed as the space in front of him became filled with a snarling, spitting, scratching dervish of small mammal.

Thinking for only a moment, Kenshin grabbed his food, circled the fire, and began to stamp it out. The disturbingly violent creatures did not notice, and he took the chance to run. Perhaps it would be wise to continue on through the night, until he found an inn. Yes, that would be best.

Nothing would ruin his day, confound it all...

Maybe just his sleep...

---

The sun rose over the mountains, its warmth and light flowing forth into every nook and cranny. Squirrels stirred. Birds began chirping. Soft rabbits began nosing about in an innocent manner, as the world radiated love for everyone. Kenshin cursed them all.


	3. Chapter 2: The unsafe lands

AN: Mmm. Weirdness. Going to get a bit dark for a couple of parts, but there will be some humor, and I, personally, am in love with the epilogue. I will squeal when I get to post it. Yes, I am that odd, but I'm happy, danggit XD Anyway, the summary should have clarified the fic a bit more - that's fixed now.

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Chapter 2: The unsafe lands

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There was a noise. Who was groaning?

Kenshin opened his eyes, and immediately slammed them shut. It was far too bright, the sun shining directly down into his eyes. Where...?

He tried to move, and instantly realized the pained sounds were coming from him. Wincing, he tried to stop, but found he could do no more than quiet them. Moving was, for the moment, out of the question. Unable to leave anytime soon, he fell to assessing his circumstances and wounds. How had he ended up - oh yes. The two swordsmen.

Two swordsmen had been fighting near a cliff - of all places, those absolutely moronic idiots - and he'd intervened to keep the smaller man from being knocked off the cliff, the price being himself going over instead. That explained the pain. How was he still alive?

Not that it mattered. He was still alive, he could still help others; dying now would not have been enough penance. Not by far.

He was grateful for his continued opportunity to help. He lay there several hours, incapacitated with pain.

-

By evening, he was able to move again. Slipping and stumbling, he made his way up the cliff side, pulling himself over to lay panting on the ridge. After a moment, he haphazardly lifted an arm to examine the wounds. Wiping the dried blood away, he could hardly see a thing. Brow furrowing in puzzlement, he dropped his arm, too tired to care. He stared at the heavens as the dusk faded and the stars emerged.

-

When he found a spring the next morning, the wounds were gone and his bruises faded. With a sense of the surreal, he washed away the dried blood, eyes wide in his tense frame. With trembling hands he redid his top knot and dressed.

-

When he'd passed through the small town, he learned the two swordsmen had continued their duel, one falling and the remaining not likely to live. His eyes had sparked gold, and even now, many hours along the twisting path, they still held an amber sheen. Animals avoided him, leaving the mountain road as still as death.

He felt it oddly appropriate.

Why would anyone do such senseless things? Disagreement and a few petty insults was no reason for death. Such pride as their downfall, in a senseless, senseless mess. Shame on them leaving their families over something so stupid as that. What were they thinking? Were they thinking!

Better not to think on such things. They were gone, by their own choices, and there was nothing to be done, no matter that he wished otherwise.

What to ponder?

Reviewing the previous day's happenings, he remembered his lack of wounds. Hm. That was still extraordinarily puzzling. Just how did one bleed that much and heal so quickly, like nothing had happened? That was a mystery likely to be a long time in solving. He had lain at the foot of that cliff -

He froze, blinking.

Drat. His bag - with food - was still sitting at the foot of that cliff.


	4. Chapter 3: Mist

AN: I like that others like this. And yes, it is an oddball story. But it's supposed to be. No one ever said I was sane. :)

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Chapter 3: Mist

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Ahead there was moisture in the air - a dark and curling cloud, unnatural in its entirety. The black miasma's tendrils wisped onto the surrounding land, blocking what should have been the edge of a field. Light disappeared slowly into an invisible whirlpool centered within it. The phenomenon screamed avoidance, radiating a sense of wrong as it soaked over every positive thing.

A moment's hesitation, and Kenshin let his head fall back and his eyes close as he walked into the mist. Why bother; what would happen would happen.

The mist itself was white. Grey within the black, breathing against his skin as he passed. Slowly tilting his head to look, he watched the mist slowly flow, among an invisible current it seemed to feel. He walked on, his surroundings unchanging for a time.

The movements changed. Kenshin barely had time to notice before the mist was blown at him, moving white as it came. He was surrounded in the color of snow; time froze.

He stood suspended, until the faint sound of screaming reached his senses. He tried to move, push free; he jerked against the pull, trying again and again as the screaming moved closer. He threw himself again, and stumbled forward into a scene of chaos on blood-soaked grounds.

Kenshin whipped his head around, attempting to take it all in. Bodies were strewn about to the side of an open area, slashed and spurting blood. Holding a sword, a man ran by, striking another before Kenshin could react. To his left, he heard a cry, and whirled to see one of the attacking bandits about to kill a woman hiding a child, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Without hesitation, Kenshin ran over, clapping his hand to his side.

His eyes widened as he realized his sword was gone - not even a sheath to show it had ever been. But stopping the man and saving the woman and child had to be accomplished. He scooped up a sword from beside a corpse, and stood his ground in front of the woman. He noted the child was gone - the woman must have sent him running into the woods, a safer choice for the child at the moment.

In the back of his mind, the situation felt somehow familiar.

The man stepped forward to strike as if Kenshin weren't there; and as Kenshin lunged to disable him, he felt a tug that pulled him backwards and off his feet. The scene erupted into wisps. Shocked again, he barely had time to notice his gi had been a different color before the sword in his hands dissolved as well. Standing, scanning for danger and tense about his still absent sword, he continued wandering the mists.

---

He heard a voice. A quiet dissension, too far to hear clearly. He turned to that direction and walked.

The voices became clearer in sound, but he couldn't seem to understand the words. Two male voices, one younger, now arguing their opinions fiercely. Wait - it was quiet again - what was the older one saying?

Kenshin bit back a cry (can't give your position away can't show weakness never ever never) as he fell, his head exploding black with pain on contact with the ground.

---

He opened his eyes. He was lying on his back in a field, the dark of night almost upon him. He reached for his sword, and found it at his hip. His gi was once again a ratty blue. The mist was nowhere to be seen.

His thoughts were scrambled. Picking up, he started across the clearing. He didn't look back.


	5. Chapter 4: Cooking

AN: If you were paying attention to the last chapter, the scenes in the "mist" should have been familiar. Onward to some chuckles!

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Chapter 4: Cooking

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Humming cheerfully, Kenshin pulled out his most treasured item to set beside his gathered kindling.

A pan. A beaten, ratty, ugly old pan that would now be used to make simple soups! And cook eggs! And many other wonderful meals! It was a most beauteous thing!

Wrinkling his nose, he sighed inwardly and admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe that was the hunger talking. Nevertheless, it would be useful, and was a fine find from the abandoned hut.

Kenshin piled the kindling, started a fire, then began preparing the fish to be cooked. After a moment, he raised his head and eyed the surrounding area, growing tense. Why did he feel like something had it out for him, suddenly?

Oh, surely not. Such paranoia was unbecoming. He filleted the fish and placed it in the pan. He eyed it for a moment - it wasn't going to be cooked properly, but at least it would be cooked - then turned to his bag. He had a gi to mend, as its sorry state was an embarrassment. He rummaged through his things, locating his last bits of thread and needle, and turned back to his meal, supplies in hand.

He blinked. Hadn't the fish been turned the other way? He eyed it cautiously, then, feeling foolish, stretched his ki senses further out into the forest. There wasn't anyone nearby, on the road or otherwise - just assorted wildlife, like the bird in the tree across the clearing.

He was going insane, then. Obviously that much hunger was good for no one.

He sighed and began stitching, glancing at the fish every once in a while.

On one of the glances, he found the fish facing the way he had originally placed it, because now the pan was turned.

The mending dropped to the ground as he shot straight up, standing at a speed most human minds could not comprehend. Hand clutching his sword, he glanced to the side and sought cover behind a shade dappled tree. All was silent for several minutes.

As nothing more occurred, Kenshin decided to return to his work. If there was something out there, at the speeds it was racing there was no point watching for it - it would show when it wanted to, and it didn't want to now. Besides, much longer and the fish would burn.

Cautiously, he wound his way back to his spot by the fire; with another scan of the area, he resumed stitching. All was quiet as the fish cooked and the young wanderer sewed.

Finishing the last stitch, the rurouni looked up at his meal - and cursed. What moments ago had been a nicely cooking fish was now a large, deformed lump doing a fair impersonation of charcoal. He shot up once more, throwing his gi over his shoulder and away from the flames. Blowing on his hand to chill it momentarily, he then grabbed the pan handle and pulled his meal off the fire to place on the dirt.

He sat fanning it for a few moments, until his eyes widened as the burning small changed to something more sour. Whipping around, his expression changed to horror as he spotted the edge of his newly-mended gi at the flames, catching fire. Pulling it away, he began cursing fluently as he stomped out the flames on his brand new rag.

Life was against him; and on days like this one, it seemed like everything was laughing at him - even that bird in the tree. It looked like it was trying to hold back convulsions. Kenshin glared; the bird keeled over backwards and landed behind the tree with a thud. Kenshin smirked; teach that stupid bird to laugh at him - ha ha ha.

---

Behind the tree, the tengu tried not to hyperventilate and failed miserably. Heavens that man was scary, with those narrowed amber eyes. No joke was enough to withstand that look! It wasn't worth it!

---

Kenshin remained unaccosted as he ate his charcoal in the quiet.


	6. Chapter 5: Music of the murdered

AN: Once again I show that I am utterly warped. I dunno. It's fun?

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Chapter 5: Music of the murdered

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It was a quiet evening in their little cottage, and he appreciated it immensely. He was spending a while sitting in the doorway, watching the night scene, the dark sky and the small but efficient garden they had planted.

When he was a small child, he had enjoyed the simple beauty of nature, but never had he long moments to savor it. And then he left Hiko to join the war, and there was never enjoyment. But here, now, finally he could truly feel the beauty and life that flowed from nature...

Tomoe said something behind him, and he turned to see her. She sat inside, by the fire pit, one hand tucked behind her back in an awkward manner even as the other rested lightly on her lap. It should have struck him as odd, but he didn't notice. He asked her to repeat the words.

She didn't, just looked at him, studying for a time. Her head tilted, then back up, her face developing the brightest, sunniest, oddest smile he'd ever seen. Slowly she scooted forward, coming towards him, straight to him though she'd only one hand to help her. She came to rest at his side, her facade-smile growing more pronounced as she brought her hand from her back. She held her tanto, and reached forward to caress his cheek with the flat of the blade. His eyes closed as he leaned into the touch, and he didn't flinch as she turned the blade sideways and cut into his skin.

The blood began to trickle down his face, slowly at first, then faster as more skin was cut. It was just him; his pain, his wounds, he didn't matter.

He felt a loss of sensation as the blade was removed, then abruptly it was halfway in his hands. Another held the weapon, curling his hand around the hilt as it was swiftly raised and pulled through her throat.

His eyes shot open in pure horror as sensation returned in full. She still sat before him, one hand curling his around the blade as her throat poured forth her life. She was smiling at him, still, only now it was a free smile, true happiness in her demeanor even as she fell sideways and died. It occurred to him that only when she was leaving -

escaping -

him she felt real happiness.

---

His eyes shot open, full of a terror and grief quickly submerged by cold efficiency as he sensed a threat. He'd whipped his sword around in a frightening battojutsu before he even had time to assess what was attacking him. He stopped dead.

There was no one there.

No, there was something, many somethings present, threat and security alike everywhere but he couldn't see them. His senses were screaming contradictions at him and after several seconds he dropped his sword and clapped his hands to his head just as an unearthly howl whipped through the trees - and then all was silence.

He stayed that way for a while, head bent in acute stress and instinctive fear, holding his head like his life would end when he let go. As his senses told him over and over again he was now alone, he slowly looked up at the world, his face full of raw emotions. Slowly, an age passing before he reached his sword, he retrieved his blade and sheathed it. He backed up several steps, hitting a tree and sliding down to the ground. He leaned his sword against his shoulder and dropped his head, staring wide eyed at the ground.

A sense of peace stole over him, calming his nerves and sending the terror away. He relaxed, momentarily feeling a happiness he hadn't felt since Tomoe was with him. As he curled forward, falling asleep, he thought he felt a light kiss on his forehead. And he was certain he heard a former guilty pleasure - his wife, singing, a beautiful calm voice that rang through the trees as he slipped into slumber.


	7. Chapter 6: On and on and on

AN: Two words: Mermaid Saga. Go acquire this manga by whatever means. It's part of what inspired this story. (And while you're on an immortality kick, rent Highlander. TV version.) I suppose I should explain... The myth Mermaid Saga uses is that if you eat the flesh of a mermaid, you have a slim chance of becoming immortal.

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Chapter 6: On and on and on

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Reaching up, Kenshin tied his hair into a low ponytail. It wasn't his usual top knot, but he had nothing against it; maybe some days he could be a little lazy. Besides, it wasn't that hot out, no need to keep his hair off his neck. Instead, it was rather cool, a nice breeze blowing off the ocean.

It had been a good decision to make camp near the shore. Walking on a sandy beach sounded like the perfect way to spend a day. He wanted to see Japan - why not even its edges? He smirked lightly, amused, as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Picking a direction from his makeshift camp, he wandered along.

A ways down the beach, he arrived at a large rock outcropping. It had the appearance of overlooking something, and while to go around it on the beach was impossible, perhaps eating lunch on top of it would prove pleasant.

The climb went smoothly, and soon he was seated atop it, the sea wind blowing his hair so he was grateful it was tied low. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back to savor the sun for a while. Eventually, curiosity got the better of him, and he picked his way across the outcropping, leaning a bit to peer over the far side. He smiled.

The rock wall blocked off a cove, a quiet, gorgeous area mostly filled with water that looked a miniature paradise unto itself. The water both sparkled like a gem and was the color of one, and the sand lining the water was almost white. There were several fish, indeterminate type from his height, that darted around kelp in an aquatic hide and seek. Its only detraction - or perhaps its salvation - was that the climb down to it was clearly impossible.

Anyone could watch it for hours and not get bored, or such was Kenshin's thought. A good forty minutes later, he had lain down on his stomach, food forgotten as he watched the sea life play.

He was forcibly reminded of food as his stomach rumbled loudly. Feeling a little silly, he sat back and pulled out the rice balls he'd acquired the previous day. He started crunching, watching the waves, glancing around occasionally. By chance, on one of his glances he spotted something in the cove and froze in astonishment.

There was a head poking out of the water, staring up at him. Under the water a dark form could be seen, longer than a typical body. Her eyes narrowed, focused on him, and somehow looked vaguely amused. They stared at each other for a long moment.

She cocked her head, and trilled an incomprehensible statement. Kenshin's brow furrowed, and a vague uneasiness came over him. The mermaid watched his uncomprehending face, and gradually began to laugh.

Chills went down his spine. The sound was displaced, but clear, and unmistakably like a human in its cruelty. It disturbed him. His memories of human cruelty were still fresh, and always would be; that there were more creatures capable of such things was a disgusting, horrifying thought.

Her laughter lessened into a smirk, and he found himself unable to turn from her viciously amused stare. Somewhere he'd heard stories concerning mermaids. He tried to remember, and as it began to dawn on him, his eyes widened.

Seeing this, she laughed again. Smirking at him one last time, she dived into the water, flicking her tail up into the air to spray drops of water like diamonds in the sky.

Most horrifying of all, he recognized the pattern of large scales on her lower half.

Several mostly forgotten incidents came to mind; cuts that bled too much for the size of the wound, the bruises that healed overnight. Slowly, Kenshin reached into his bag, pulling out a small knife. He unwrapped it, dropping cloth to the rock, and slowly drew it through the skin of his forearm. He reached for the cloth, swiped it across the wound, and watched as the cut healed.

Again and again he cut lines in his skin that disappeared. A hollow look in his eyes, Kenshin shoved his possessions back in his bag, and headed away. He would head back towards the main road; he didn't think he could stand to see the ocean anymore.


	8. Epilogue: Hiko forevermore

AN: SQUEEEEEEEEEE! The End. :) Huggles and cuddles out to my reviewers - I love you all. Seriously. I've never gotten so many reviews before and now you've made me an addict. Heeheehee.

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Epilogue: Hiko forevermore

* * *

He felt good. Not quite how he'd felt all these years, not knowing where his baka deshi had been and what he'd been doing. Yes, he ached like all hell from his experience with the wrong end of a certain recently taught, obscenely fast sword technique, but it was a good sort of hurt, that came with happy knowledge.

Hiko decided food would do him good. Obviously it was impossible to remain sane when running on an empty stomach while also recuperating. He began cooking some rice, pulling out a bowl and chopsticks as it heated. He stared at his hands and the pottery, contemplating.

Really, it was amazing what a good night's sleep could do for you. He'd almost forgotten that, years back, when his deshi was constantly awakening him with nightmares, crying out in pain; and again, when that stupid boy left to fight in a war he had no business being in. Hiko had worried - not that he'd ever tell the little red-haired fuzzball.

Hiko wrinkled his nose. No matter what his age, the boy was still little - hadn't grown that much in his years away. He'd have to tease Kenshin about that.

Kenshin. What was that boy thinking? Trying to save Japan, again - what next, the world?

Hiko was almost scared the fuzzball would try it.

He ran various scenarios through his mind as he stirred the rice, trying to imagine the fuzzball as a world hero; finally he ended his thoughts with a shake of his head. Idle dreaming was something he'd chided Kenshin for - when the boy was not that much smaller than currently - and he wouldn't be caught dead indulging himself now.

Besides, that would be one hell of a scary world, with people everywhere worshipping the little fuzzball.

Hiko twitched.

Scooping himself some rice, he sat back to eat in silence. After finishing his meal, he rested his hands on his knees, dangling the bowl and chopsticks as he tilted his head back to stare at the roof.

Stupid boy. He'd just been whipped back into shape - the toll of battle would be far too harsh on his body. If he'd just kept up his art, this wouldn't be any wear on him at all -

Distracted by his thoughts, Hiko loosened his hold on the empty bowl, and it shattered on the ground. His face darkened. Had anyone been around to see that...

Leaning forward, he began to retrieve the shards. Slipping on the first one, he cut his hand and began to curse. Before he could even think of going to clean the wound, little sparks of blue lightening danced across the cut, closing it and leaving it healed.

Hiko blinked.


End file.
